


The Black Retreat

by sesheta_66



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 03:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11349093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sesheta_66/pseuds/sesheta_66
Summary: Draco's life as an interior designer was going swimmingly until he found himself having to work with contractor Harry Potter of all people. Surprisingly, they worked well together. Which was the reason Draco had completely taken leave of his senses and asked Potter to help him build something for his mother’s birthday. Pansy's pretty sure there's more to it than meets the eye.





	The Black Retreat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evening12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evening12/gifts).



> Big thanks to fantasyfiend09 for the beta! All remaining mistakes are my own.

** **

**The Black Retreat**

   
Draco brushed Floo powder from his shoulders as he and Pansy headed for the lifts.  "Why did we have to be here again?"  He hadn't had much sleep the prior night and had only half listened when Pansy'd announced they needed to be at the client's office at nine.  Circe's tits, but he could use some more caffeine.  
   
Pansy’s heels clicked alongside him, the noise echoing off the marble floor.  "The contractor we'd been slated to work with had to pull out of the agreement, and they're going with another.  Today we're meeting with the new contractor to go over the work schedules of our various teams and to generally cover the same business we did at our initial meeting with the previous contractor."  
   
As they walked past towering white walls in the too-bright lobby, he rather thought they should have been hired to decorate this place, too.  It reminded him of every other building in every new highrise in most major cities.  Would a hint of colour and warmth have killed them?  "Brilliant.  Starting from scratch all over again."  
   
She sighed in the way she reserved only for Draco and Blaise - exasperated and mildly humouring at once.  "Not really, darling.  The scope of the project remains the same, and we hadn't done much in the way of planning beyond initial design, so our schedule's not disrupted."  
   
He longingly thought of the espresso machine back at the office, and of the expert way in which Constance always prepared his.  Entering the lift, he scowled as the fluorescent lighting bounced off the mirrors and attacked his retinas.  "Today’s is," he grumbled.  
   
She snickered.  "My, aren't you in fine form."  
   
He ignored her and they made their way to the office in silence.  The receptionist greeted them and escorted them to the boardroom where she said that the team would be along shortly.  
   
A minute later, the client's team entered, all looking positively chipper.  He hated them all.  Bailey, the Operations Manager, motioned for everyone to take a seat, his bald head reflecting the light, nearly as much as the mirror in the lift, as he angled his pudgy frame into his own chair.  Draco forced himself not to touch his own hairline in sympathy.  "Thanks for joining us today.”  He turned to Draco.  “I trust Ms. Parkinson has brought you up to speed."  
   
Draco nodded.  "I understand we'll be working with another contractor that had bid on the project?"  
   
"Truth be told, he was our first choice.”  Bailey looked rather pleased with the turn of events as he leaned back in his chair and rested his hands on his ample belly.  As the chair creaked in protest, Draco amused himself wondering if it would eventually just collapse beneath the man.  “But when we'd discussed the schedule, he'd had to respectfully withdraw due to another commitment."  
   
Draco frowned.  "Does that mean we're changing the schedule now?"  Pansy nudged him under the table, but he didn’t care.  They'd secured other clients based on their ability to deliver, and this particular job was going to tie them up for weeks.  He didn’t fancy the idea of having to rearrange all that.  
   
"Not to worry," Bailey said, righting the chair once more.  "It turns out they finished their prior job with some time to spare and they're able to jump right in."  
   
"Glad to hear it," Pansy said cheerfully.  There was a reason she took point on client liaison.  
   
"Perhaps you know the job," Bailey continued.  "That new children's centre."  
   
 _No._  Draco knew the job alright, but that meant –.   _No, no, no, no, no!_  This could not be happening.  
   
Before Draco had a chance to say a word, the door burst open and in blew who he just knew would be - as always - the bane of his existence.  
   
Potter.  
   
Well, fuck.  
   
Wheels spinning, Draco tried to figure out a graceful exit, but he knew their contract was iron-clad.  His team and the awarded contractor’s team would work together, as required, but otherwise they each had their own separate agreement with the client.  Unless the timing was drastically altered, and it seemed it hadn't been, there was no getting out of it without financial penalty and a potential black stain on their reputation, something they could ill afford.  He wondered idly what had happened with the other contractor.  
   
Besides, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Pansy's reminded him, this was a career make-or-break project.  He and Pansy had built this business together.  They’d worked too hard for too long to make a name for themselves.  At first the only clients they could get - the only people that would even consider them - were old family friends and associates.  And even then, it was all rather hush-hush, no one wanting to be publicly associated with a former Death Eater, not even to have him redecorate a room.  It had taken years before anyone besides former Slytherins would let either of them past their threshold.    
   
But then one day out of the blue, Luna Lovegood, of all people, had hired them to design the new offices of the Quibbler.  She'd run a six-page spread in the next issue, and they'd been busy since.  Sure, some clients had been wary, despite the article, and Draco had felt dark magic detection spells descend on him on more than one occasion, but that was in the past.  Mostly.  They'd developed an extensive portfolio of satisfied clients and a waiting list that ran anywhere from three to six months over most of the past three years.  
   
In fact, Pansy had suggested hiring on another designer, but Draco hadn't yet warmed to the idea.  He liked the exclusivity of their current setup.  Besides, it felt right.  Almost like family.  
   
The weight of Pansy's foot pressing on his own brought Draco back to the present and the problem at hand.  For the next few weeks, he would be working with Potter on possibly the biggest project of his career.  A quick glance her way told Draco that Pansy didn't look particularly surprised to see Potter.   _The bitch_.    
   
"Malfoy.  Parkinson."  Potter breezed in like he owned the place, shook Bailey's hand and took a seat across from Draco.    
   
"Ah, I see you've met then."  Bailey looked pleased.    
   
Draco wanted to wipe that stupid look off his face.  "Yes," he answered, a large, fake smile plastered on his face.  "We all went to school together, actually."  
   
"Well, schoolmates.  It'll be just like old times then."  
   
Pansy snorted but covered it with a cough.  It was Potter who responded.  "Well, let's hope not.  We rather hated each other at the time."  Draco stared at him.  What was he trying to do, get them all ousted from the job?  He ignored Draco's look and continued.  "But I like to think that we've all grown up since then.  Plus I've had a chance to see some of their work over the years and it's quite impressive.  I'm sure we'll get along famously now."  
   
Is he now?  His smile looked genuine, but after years in the public eye, perhaps Potter had grown more subtle and was able to mask his true feelings.  Whatever the case, Draco had no choice.  Fuck, he needed some caffeine.  Possibly something stronger.  
   
***  
   
All in all, the entire project had gone well. Bailey had outlined his vision and introduced the point person for each part of the build at the initial meeting, then left them to it.  Much to Draco’s surprise, Potter had been right.  Draco wouldn’t have said they’d got on _famously_ but they’d managed to be professional and respectful and had even had lunch together twice without either of them stirring up trouble.    
   
They’d finally made it to the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the new building, and he and Potter had both brought their teams with them for the event.  Mesmerised by the play of light on Bailey’s bald pate and lulled into semi-consciousness as the man droned on and on, Draco had let his gaze drift over their teams - all present looking pleased to be there, and not just for the free food and drink.  They’d looked proud - rightly so - of the finished product.  Draco had to admit, if only to himself, that they’d all worked well together.  From the beginning, he and Potter had made a good team, planning and executing their joint vision and breathing life into what might have become yet one more ordinary and blindingly bright building.    
   
Perhaps the proud faces around him had made him do it.  Or maybe the champagne was to blame.  Reflecting on the success of the project, Draco had pulled Potter aside for a private chat just as the festivities were winding down and the house-elves cleaned up around them.  In a fit of insanity, he was now sure, he’d asked if Potter would consider doing some work on a more personal project.  As the crowd slowly dispersed around them, he stood clutching his empty glass and staring at Potter, waiting for a reply.  
   
"I suppose that depends on what you mean by personal," Potter mused, after the initial shock of the question had worn off.  
   
Draco's mind betrayed him, flashing images of some decidedly _personal_ scenarios involving Potter before he had a chance to dismiss them.  His face warmed.  
   
Potter had the nerve to smirk - smirk! - at him and Draco just knew he'd turned as red as a Weasley's hair.  Curse his fair complexion.    
   
He put his glass down on the tray of a passing house-elf.  "I mean that I was thinking about something special for my mother - an outdoor retreat of sorts on the manor property."  
   
"Your ... mother?"  Potter blinked rapidly before schooling his features to once again appear all business, but not fast enough for Draco to miss that look on his face.  Disappointment perhaps?  Had Potter hoped he’d meant something else?  Interesting.  Draco would store that away for future consideration.  
   
"Yes, Potter, my mother.  She has a rather significant birthday coming up, and I thought I'd like to do something special for her."  
   
Potter smiled - that disarming smile he'd started using (or Draco had started noticing) of late.  "I think she'd like that."  
   
Draco frowned.  "You haven't even heard what I'm proposing yet."  
   
Potter's grin widened.  "No, but if it's something from you - something you put a lot of thought into - I'm sure she'll love it."  
   
Draco's lips twitched.  "Are you now?"  
   
This time Potter laughed.  "This is the woman who defied Voldemort so she could get to you and make sure you were okay.  Yes, I'd say I'm very sure she would appreciate anything you did for her."  
   
Draco knew Potter was right.  All the same, it was rather unnerving - and if he allowed himself to appreciate the sentiment, _nice_ \- to hear Potter say it.  "So you'll do it then?"  
   
Potter chuckled, his eyes warm.  "Sure."  
   
It was Draco's turn to smirk.  "Without even knowing how much work it'll involve?  The proposed timing?  And how big my budget is?  Why, Potter, that's rather foolhardy of you, isn't it?"  
   
"Just chalk it up to my Gryffindor impetuousness.  Jump first, ask questions later."  
   
Draco snorted.  "That's a dangerous prospect when dealing with a Slytherin, you know."  
   
Potter stepped closer, eyes calculating and body invading his personal space.  Draco held his ground.  "I like living on the edge.  Makes things interesting."  
   
Draco swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry and his body much warmer than the situation warranted.  "It does?"  
   
Potter grinned and leaned in to whisper in Draco's ear.  "Absolutely."  
   
Draco only just stopped himself from swaying and leaning into Potter's cheek, forgetting for a moment that they were in a public place.  Damn it.  He was the Slytherin.  He wasn't supposed to lose control.  He cleared his throat and took a step back, extending his hand.  "Then we have a deal?"  
   
Potter stared at the proffered hand.  Despite their work together over the past few weeks, Draco only now realised that they’d never had occasion to shake hands.  Visions of the Hogwarts Express all over again flashing before his eyes, Draco half expected Potter to balk, but instead he gripped Draco's hand and nodded.  "Deal."  
   
***  
   
Later that evening, brandy in hand and staring into the flames of his flat's fireplace, Draco's thoughts drifted back to his encounter with Potter that afternoon.  If he didn't know better, he'd think Potter had been flirting with him.  But that couldn't be right.  This was Potter, after all.  Subtlety was lost on the man.  Besides, he was _Potter_ and Draco was _Malfoy_.  There could never be anything between them.  It had been a challenge and nothing more.  It had to have been.  Anything else would be preposterous to even consider.  Wouldn't it?  
   
Yet, even as he pondered it, the idea didn't put him off like he would have expected.  Potter was fit, after all, no longer the skinny, scrawny boy from school.  He'd definitely grown into his looks.  And he positively exuded confidence and strength, no longer the arrogance of his youth.  
   
If he'd ever actually been arrogant.  Draco wondered if he'd misjudged Potter from the start.   _No different than he'd misjudged you,_ an irritated voice echoed in his head.  But had he really?  Draco had been a bit of a twat in school, even he had to admit.  He'd have probably reacted the same way Potter had.  
   
Draco shook his head to clear it.  These thoughts - rewriting history - were getting him nowhere.  Exhaustion and alcohol were playing tricks on his memories.  They'd both been prats to each other; might as well leave it at that.  Potter liked a challenge, and Draco had always been able to get a rise out of him.  That's all it was.  Nothing more.  He swallowed the last of his brandy and went to have a shower, eager to wash away his wayward thoughts.  He had a meeting with Potter at nine the next morning.  He didn't need ridiculous notions of things that could never be distracting him.  He had a job to do and his mother deserved the best he could give.  
   
If only he could master his dreams.  
   
***  
   
The next morning, Draco blinked away the image of dark hair and green eyes.  A shower, a quick wank and two cups of coffee later, he felt nearly human enough to face the day.  
   
"What rock did you crawl out from under?"  Trust Pansy to tell it like it was.  And barge into his office in the process, closing the door behind her.  
   
He cringed.  "Do I look that bad?"  
   
She smirked and stalked over to him, caressing his tie with long, scarlet nails.  "On the contrary," she said, tugging at the tie playfully, "you look like you've been shagged senseless.  Anyone I know?"  
   
His eyes widened at her pronouncement.  "What?"  
   
She chuckled.  "You have that dazed look you get the day after, when you're thinking about the night before.  I've seen it more than once."  
   
 _Fuck._  He can't see Potter like this.  He was starting to panic.  Breathe.  Breathe.  Can't let on to Pansy that he'd been having dreams featuring Potter in the leading role.  
   
She positively cackled now.  He really did hate her sometimes.  "Now you just look spooked.  Dare I ask why?"  
   
"I have a meeting at nine and ... well.  I can't very well look _dazed_ , can I?"  
   
"Why didn't I know about this meeting?  Is it a new client?"  
   
"It's with Potter."   _Shit._  He'd blurted that out without thinking.  "He's  going to do some work for my mother," he said, attempting recovery.  
   
“Your mother who is currently on the continent?”  
   
“Yes.  For her birthday.  A gift from me.”  
   
But it was no use.  She had _that look_ on her face:  the one that said she saw entirely too much for his liking.  "You and Potter?  After all this time?  That's positively delicious!"  
   
"No, you wench.  There's nothing between me and Potter."  
   
She pouted, but it was as fake as Umbridge’s laughter.  "So it wasn't Potter that put that look on your face?"  
   
"Of course not!" he barked.  In hindsight, that might have been a bit over the top.  
   
"Tsk, tsk.  Methinks thou doth protest too much, darling."  
   
"Nothing happened between me and Potter!" he insisted again.  Nothing had, technically.  Not in reality.  
   
"But you want it to."  It wasn't a question.  
   
He took a fortifying breath.  "Pansy, darling, I know you are under the delusion –"  
   
"Draco, darling," she cut through his protest, "do we really need to discuss which one of us is delusional?"  
   
He coughed.  "Saying it over and over again doesn’t make it so.”  
   
Ignoring him, she continued.  "You've been gagging for Potter since at least fourth year."  
   
"I have not."  Though this was not a new subject of argument between them, she'd been blessedly - and shockingly - silent on the issue through the entire project.  He should have known that wouldn't last.  
   
"Fine, then.  Fifth year."  
   
"He had my father sent to Azkaban that year."  
   
"Mmm.  Yes, he did.  And that made you want him even more."  
   
"I am not having this discussion with you.  Again."  
   
"Because I'm right and you know it.  Don’t think I didn’t see the two of you cosying up at the ribbon-cutting.  Hell, Blaise and Millie know it too.  And now –"  She looked up at the clock on the wall behind Draco's head.  "The object of your desire will be arriving in five minutes."  
   
He whipped his head around and got a crick in his neck for his troubles.  "Shit!"  
   
"Indeed."  The humour in her voice didn't go unnoticed.  "And you looking ready to jump into bed with him at the drop of a hat.  What will the golden boy think?"  
   
He turned on her.  "I loathe you."  
   
She grinned wickedly.  "You love me, darling.  And fortunately for you, I love you too and - just for today - I shall take pity on you."  
   
She went to her own office, reached for something in her desk, and returned with a vial of light blue liquid.  She handed it to him.  "Drink."  
   
It was a measure of how desperate he suddenly felt that he gulped it back without so much as a sniff to be sure the bottle didn't contain anything nefarious.  
   
"Oh, my, you are trusting."  When he turned panicked eyes on her, she shook her head, chuckling again.  "Don't worry.  It was my stand-by clarity potion.  Should shake off the fuzzy brain feeling.”  She lowered her voice to a whisper to be sure Constance didn’t hear.  “Nothing that would make you do something entirely out of character, like say for instance, throw yourself at a certain Dark-Lord-slaying Gryffindor."  She brushed her hands over his shoulders, straightening his shirt.  "Though that would be fun to watch."  She winked and waved away the empty vial.  
   
"You are evil.”  He heart Constance chuckle as she walked away from her desk, hopefully en route to getting him an espresso.  “Truly evil."  
   
Pansy picked up her wand and waved it at him before he even registered she might be up to something.  A cool sensation spilled over him, head to toe, leaving him relaxed, his heart rate and breathing slowing to near normal levels.  "Feel better?"  
   
He nodded, taking a deep breath and centering his thoughts.  "Calming spell?"  
   
She nodded.  "Didn't have a potion for that, and it's the next best thing."  
   
"I still hate you."  
   
"Of course you do."  She sat down and crossed her long legs, her sinfully short skirt showing off her best feature, one pump dangling from her toes.  "Nearly as much as you hate Potter."  
   
"Did I hear my name?"  The man himself walked through the door looking positively edible.  Draco schooled his features; Pansy was far too observant.  
   
Draco felt another wave of coolness and turned to face Pansy.  "Potter and I have a meeting.  Do let Constance know he’s arrived when she comes back?"  
   
"Will do."  She stood up and brushed past Potter as she walked towards the door.  "Potter."  
   
"Parkinson."  
   
"As lovely as this has been, I'll leave you two to ... whatever it is."  She clicked the door shut behind her.  
   
The office seemed suddenly very small.  And warm.  Draco made a show of shuffling paint and fabric samples around his desk as he tried to calm himself.  When he looked up, Potter was scowling.  "I know you like to project that brooding hero look, but I'm the only one here.  You can stop scowling."  Potter's head snapped up and his scowl turned into something Draco couldn't name, though it may have resembled disappointment.  "What?"  It came out sharper than Draco had intended, but Potter always did put him out of sorts and bring out the worst in him.  
   
"I thought we'd got past all that ..."  He scowled some more.  "Well, our past."  
   
What was Potter on about now?  "I'm sure I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."  Really, who could know what was bouncing around that head of his?  
   
"Just now, when I came in."  
   
Draco blinked, willing his patience not to flee.  "I'm going to need a bit more than that, Potter."  
   
"What Parkinson said."  As if that explained all.  
   
He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the calming spell to do its job.  "You're going to have to speak in full sentences if you expect me to understand what in Salazar's name you're on about."  
   
Potter narrowed his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.  "She said you hate me.  I thought we'd moved on from that."  
   
Oh.   _Oh._  Draco's jaw dropped and he had to make an effort to close it again.  Was he serious?  Was he really annoyed - did he really care - that Draco might hate him?  "Pansy –" he started, prepared to fabricate something, anything, but then caught sight of Potter's face and yes, it was disappointment that he saw there.    
   
Draco stood up and flung his arms in the air dramatically before walking to the window.  Damn it if Potter wasn't affecting him.  Making him tell the truth.  Well, at least he didn't have to look Potter in the eye whilst doing so.  It was all Pansy's fault for getting him worked up to begin with.  He hadn't had the chance to calm down properly before Potter'd waltzed in.  
   
"It was sarcasm, Potter.  Pansy is rather adept at it."  
   
"I don't understand."  
   
"No, I don't imagine you do, given that you obviously walked in at the tail end of the conversation."  Despite his self-preservation instincts, Draco turned around and faced him.  "I'd just told Pansy that I hate her and she suggested that I hate her nearly as much as I hate you.  Which I don't.  Either one of you.  Ergo, sarcasm."  
   
"You don't hate me?"  Bloody hell, now Potter sounded hopeful.  
   
Draco ran a hand across his face.  He wasn't used to this honesty business.  Give him subterfuge and innuendo anytime.  "No, Potter, much as the realisation would no doubt shock anyone who knew us at school, I find that I do not, in fact, hate you."  
   
Potter smiled widely, and it was all Draco could do to hold back a smile of his own.  Honestly, were they Hufflepuffs all of a sudden?  
   
Draco shook his head.  "I should have thought that was obvious when I enlisted your services to create something special for my mother."  
   
Potter's stupid grin remained as he ignored Draco and said, "I don't hate you either."  
   
Draco pointedly ignored the jolt of pleasure that caused and rolled his eyes.  "Yes, well ... now we've cleared that up, can we get on with the business at hand?"  
   
They discussed Draco's idea - more of a mishmash of thoughts than anything concrete, really.  His mother loved all things to do with the spring - flowers and scents and the warming of the air, and he thought he'd like to create an outdoor retreat for her, somewhere she might putter around with plants.  More accurately, where she could direct the activities of the house-elves as they puttered around with plants.    
   
After a couple of hours, they decided they’d done all they could off-site, and agreed their next meeting would be at the manor.  
   
"My plate's full much of the day tomorrow, and I'd like to do a bit of research before we meet again," Potter said.  "How does Wednesday work for you?  I can clear the whole day if you want to get moving on this."  
   
Draco masked his surprise, barely containing his, _You'd do that for me_ question.  Instead, he said, "I didn't realise the Chosen One's schedule was so open."  
   
"It isn't."  Potter frowned.  "And please don't call me that."  
   
"But it –"  
   
"That was a long time ago.  Another lifetime."  Draco nodded.  "Besides, I thought you said time was of the essence, that your mother's only away for a few more weeks."  
   
"True."  
   
"Then we'd better get moving on this.  I suspect we're not going to be using prefabricated materials, and we'll need time to custom order everything once we've decided what to use."  
   
"Of course.  It's just ..."  You're doing this _for me_ and I'm not sure I can quite grasp that.  
   
"Hmm?"  
   
"Never mind."  
   
Potter looked ready to press the issue but then shrugged instead.  "Is nine o'clock okay for you?"  
   
"That's fine.  I'll adjust the wards so you can get through the gates.  Just walk up to the door."  
   
"I could Floo."  
   
He fidgeted about with a design board.  "About that.  Let's just say we had some trouble after the war.  Some people thought it would be highly amusing to ... well, let's just say we had to close it off to ensure our safety.  And it seems the person we hired to do the job was rather enthusiastic about security, and we've had a hell of a time trying to get it to work again.  No one at the Ministry is particularly concerned that the Malfoys can't access the Floo network, either, so we haven't had much luck reconnecting it."  
   
Not surprisingly, Potter looked irritated - he really did wear his sense of fairness like a cloak.  But without responding, he merely nodded and said he'd see Draco Wednesday.  
   
***  
   
Several days into their work and nearing the end of the day, Draco found himself watching Potter work, a level of deep focus and concentration evident in every look, every move.  Draco never would have guessed the impetuous boy of their youth could sit still, engrossed in one thing for so long.  He supposed he wasn't the only one who'd matured since school.  As Draco considered Potter, and how obviously committed he was to the project, a conversation from the previous day interrupted his musings.  
   
"But _why_ ," Pansy asked, "is he doing it?"  
   
"Because my mother saved his life and I didn't identify him, blah blah blah.  The usual."  
   
"But that was years ago.  And as I and the rest of the wizarding world recall, Potter paid those debts in full, several times over."  
   
Draco shrugged.  "I suppose."  
   
"He saved your life - not once, but twice.  Then he testified for you _and_ Narcissa at your trials, undoubtedly saving you both from a life behind bars.  Then he took up the cause to make sure the Ministry didn't get their grubby paws on your ancestral home - and the homes of other Death Eater families.  And let's not forget how he helped bridge the gap between your mother and her sister."  She looked fiercely into his eyes, and he got the sensation of her boring into his brain.  He Occluded himself to be safe.  "If anyone owes a debt of gratitude, it would be you.  And yet ... for some reason, the man is putting his life, his work, on hold.  For you.  Surely there's something more to it than you're letting on."  
   
Back to the present, he suddenly had to know.  "Potter."  
   
"Hmm?"  
   
"Why are you doing this?  You've very nearly put your life on hold for this project."  
   
"I haven't really." He shrugged.  "I'll put in some time on site or in the office when I'm needed, but most of my ongoing jobs are at the stage where others can manage without my presence most of the time.  I have a good team."  
   
"So you've said.  But why are you personally handling everything here?"  
   
Potter frowned.  "If you'd rather I not –"  
   
"Don't be ridiculous.  It's just that we've barely tolerated each other until recently."  
   
"There's an understatement."  
   
"See?  That's just it.  Why then are you willing to dedicate so much of your time to –" He almost said _me_ "– this job?"  
   
"Your mother saved my life and you –"  
   
"Yes, yes, we've gone over that before.  But you've already paid back any perceived debt several times over.  Besides, saving your life was secondary as you well know.  My mother only lied to save _me_."  
   
"That's just it, isn't it?"  
   
"Sorry?"  
   
Potter set aside his designs, put down his quill and ran his hand through his hair.  He looked vulnerable all of a sudden, and Draco had the strange urge to reach out to him.  
   
"Your mom loves you so much that she would have given her life for you - still would, I'm sure."  Draco nodded, knowing it was the truth.  "My mom _did_ give up her life for me."  Potter turned away and walked to the window.  He spoke to the pane, or perhaps to someone or something in the distance only he could see.  "I can't do anything special for my own mother - I never could - but when you proposed this project, I thought maybe I could help you do something special for yours."  
   
Draco didn't know what to say.  He hadn’t expected Potter to open up like that.  Not sure what he had expected, Draco said nothing.  They remained in a strangely comfortable silence for awhile, Potter continuing to stare out the window.  
   
Eventually, Potter turned to face Draco once more and smirked.  "Besides, you asked me."  
   
Draco laughed.  "I'm sure lots of people ask you for lots of things all the time."  
   
"Yeah, but they're not you."    
   
While Draco's heart hammered in his chest and his brain tried to work out what the hell Potter had meant by that - Pansy's voice nattering on inside his head - Potter gathered up his things, leaving them in a neat pile on the table by the French doors leading to the gardens.  
   
Potter caught him staring and grinned.  "I never could resist a challenge from you, could I?"  
   
Oh.  Of course that's what he'd meant.  Draco schooled his features, drawing upon his Malfoy smirk.  "You're so easy, Potter."  
   
Potter's grin widened and turned almost predatory.  He stalked over to where Draco stood and leaned in, brushing his hair against Draco's cheek as he growled into his ear, "You wish."  Then he pulled back, turned and walked out the door.  
   
Draco stood frozen in place, heart racing and mind reeling as he heard the front door open.  Just before it clicked shut again, Potter's amused voice called back to him, "See you Monday, Malfoy."  
   
***  
   
Draco awoke Monday morning from a fitful night of sleep.  Details were fuzzy but what rang through clearly were images of Potter.  Three nights in a row Potter had haunted his dreams.  Flashes of smiles, scowls and spell-casting.  Muscles bared as Draco’s mind filled in details that he could only imagine and - he could no longer deny - longed to confirm.  Frantic kisses and skin on skin and ... well.  He hadn't woken this hard since ... possibly ever.    
   
He glanced at the clock.  Fuck.  He barely had time for a shower and breakfast before Potter would show up, and then he'd be spending the entire day with the star of his heated dreams.  
   
He climbed into the shower, determined to take the edge off and rid himself of his current condition and, closing his eyes to replay the vivid scene from his nighttime imaginings, he'd barely touched himself before he was spilling his spunk down the drain.  
   
Still shaking from the force of his orgasm, Draco choked down some food, wondering how the hell he was going to spend an entire day with Potter and not wonder if he really looked - and felt - that good under his clothes.  
   
He hadn't planned to leave, but shortly after Potter arrived, bringing with him the scent of sandalwood and a cool spring breeze, Draco found he needed to escape.    
   
"I've got a couple of appointments this morning that my assistant was unable to reschedule.  Slipped my mind Friday.  You'll be okay on your own for a bit?"  
   
Looking mildly perplexed, Potter recovered quickly.  "Sure.  I wanted to nail down a location today, so I can do some preliminary wandering about.  The property's certainly large enough to keep me busy, and I might even have a few options for you to consider by the time you get back."  
   
"Good.  Great.  Excellent."  Draco scowled at his own inability to articulate himself this morning, then at the useless Floo, wishing he could make a faster escape.  "I should be back before noon."  And like the coward he was, he fled.  
   
***  
   
He’d barely settled himself at his desk when his blissful retreat was interrupted.  "What are you doing here?" Pansy asked as she swooped into his office and sat herself down.   _Damn it._  He didn’t need her grilling him when he was already out of sorts.    
   
Constance hovered outside his door mouthing, _I’m sorry._  He nodded to let her know he wasn’t angry.  Really, it was rather unfair to expect anyone to keep out the likes of his partner when she was determined to get past.  
   
Constance pulled his door shut and he turned his attention back to Pansy.  "I work here, thanks."  
   
"Yes, but you cleared your schedule for the week."  
   
He sucked in a breath.  "Not a word to Potter.  I've just told him I have two appointments this morning."  
   
Pansy narrowed her eyes.  Never a good sign.  "But wasn't that the whole point of shuffling around your calendar, so you could spend quality time with our saviour?"  At his glare, she coughed and backtracked.  "I mean to enlist his assistance constructing a gift for your mother?"  
   
He wasn't sure what did it - knowing that his best friend could see through him or that she'd eventually wear him down and get it out of him anyway, more likely a bit of both - but he found himself spilling everything to her.  What'd happened on Friday, his dreams, Potter's appearance that morning looking and smelling bloody _perfect_ , and his escape.  He'd left out the speediest wank of his life; he did have some pride after all.  When he finished, he was drained and out of breath, and Pansy - the bitch - was chuckling and shaking her head.  
   
"What, pray tell, is so funny?"  
   
"You are, darling, naturally."  
   
He frowned.  "Explain."  
   
"You and Potter have been doing this dance since, what, sixth year?  Fifth?  Fourth?  Whatever."  She waved a hand dismissively before he had a chance to respond.  "Doesn't matter.  What does matter is that you're both gagging for it and, now that you've got the chance to do something about it, you run away.   _Honestly._ "  
   
"I don't follow."  And he didn't.  "Potter hated me in school."  Her brows lifted and he hastily added, "and the feeling was mutual."  
   
She outright laughed at that.  In fact, it took her some time to settle down before she spoke again.  "You're serious?"  He nodded.  "We have discussed this before.  Many times.  Just because you spent years trying to convince yourself that you had no feelings for him, don't think for a moment any of the rest of us bought that.  What baffles me is how it's even possible that the two of you spent years following each other around, trying to best each other, coming to blows numerous times, doing everything in your power to get each other's attention, and generally obsessing about one another, and neither of you ever clued in.  You've been the focus of each other's lives, off and on, for years.  And now you're both fit and - this morning's panic attack aside - mature men.  I say it's high time you did something about it."  
   
Draco stared at her resolute expression, trying to process what she'd just said.  She might have a point about Draco.  But could Potter really want him?  There was no point denying that he wanted Potter.  If his dreams were any indication, at the very least Draco wanted him in his bed.  Possibly more, but he could think about that later.  Sure, he'd had fleeting thoughts about the way Potter looked at him or joked with him, but he'd always chalked that up to his own delusions.  
   
"If what you say has even the slightest possibility of being true –"  
   
She snorted.  "Please."  
   
He huffed.  "Why should I be the one to do something?  He's the run-in-without-thinking Gryffindor.  Shouldn't he be the one to make the first move?"  
   
She shrugged.  "I rather think he has, don't you?"  
   
He ran through all the things that had transpired between them since that original job.  All the looks, the innuendo.  "But how do I know he's not just joking with me like he does with everyone?"  
   
"You know."  She stared at him in that way she had of looking through him like no one else he knew.  "The real question is: what are you going to do about it?"  
   
***  
   
Draco returned to the manor as soon as enough time had passed for Potter not to wonder about his appointments.  Actually, he'd stayed at the office until Pansy had grown weary of his pacing and had thrown him out.  
   
Potter approached within moments of his return, a wide grin plastered on his face.  "I'm so glad you're back," he said and reached for Draco's arm.  "C'mon.  I want to show you something."  
   
Draco allowed himself to be dragged outside and past the gardens before he tugged his arm free.  "Where precisely are you taking me?"  
   
Potter stopped and turned to face him.  "To the perfect spot."  
   
Draco took a moment to realise that - of course - Potter meant a perfect location to build, not a spot to ...  "Care to enlighten me?"  
   
Potter shook his head.  "Nope, it's a surprise."  
   
"Surprise?"  
   
"It's still on the manor property, if that makes you feel better."  Potter turned back around and continued walking.  
   
"I figured as much."  Draco fell into step behind Potter and found it somewhat disconcerting to be led around his own property.  Then again, Potter's clothes fit him much better now than they had back in school, and the view from behind was nothing to complain about.  
   
As they got further from the gardens and Draco registered the direction they were heading, his unease grew.  A few minutes later, a familiar tingling began tickling at his legs and he halted.  "Potter, stop."  
   
Potter turned around.  "We're almost there."  He held his arm out towards a sparse growth of trees near the edge of the property.  
   
"I'm not going there."  Draco's voice shook slightly and Potter frowned.  
   
"It's okay."  
   
"No, it's not," Draco insisted.  "This place creeped me out as a child and I'm not about to go back now after years of successfully avoiding it."  Potter looked genuinely baffled by Draco's reaction.  "I just ... can't."  
   
Potter walked back to where Draco stood, rigid, trying desperately not to shake as the tingling continued to tease at his legs.  
   
"It's earth magic," Potter said, as though that explained everything.  "It's benevolent.  It won't hurt you."  
   
Draco scoffed.  "Says he who's been blindly running into danger his whole life."  
   
Potter laughed.  "That's a fair point," he conceded.  "But I've done my research on this already, and I swear to you the magic poses no threat to you."  He rubbed the back of his neck before adding, "At least as long as you don't mean it harm."  
   
"You say that like it's sentient."  
   
Potter shrugged.  "Magic is sentient.  The wand chooses the wizard, remember?  And earth magic protects the earth.  If you pose no threat, it won't harm you.  In fact –"  He moved towards the growth of trees "– it enhances your own magic."  
   
Draco watched, transfixed, as Potter stepped between two trees and the air began to swirl around him, his shirt and hair whipping in the wind.  He looked directly at Draco, his eyes practically shining.  Draco shuddered, afraid of what might be happening.  Potter motioned for Draco to join him, but he steadfastly held his ground, shaking his head insistently.  "Get out of there, Potter.  Now."  
   
Potter scowled but did as Draco asked.  He walked up to him and smiled.  "Ley line."  
   
Draco relaxed a little now that Potter was away from there.  And he seemed to be okay.  Draco only just stopped himself from reaching out and touching him to be sure.  "What?"  
   
"Ley lines carry the earth's energy - earth magic - underground, all around the world."  
   
"Yes, I know what ley lines are, Potter."  
   
"You probably also know there are numerous ones that converge at Stonehenge.  One of those lines runs beneath your property."  He pointed to the spot where he'd stood moments before.  "Right over there."  
   
"Fucking hell."  
   
"Indeed."  
   
"And it's not harmful?"  
   
Potter shook his head again.  "It feels _strange_ , uncomfortable even, to have that much energy pulsing through your body, energising you, but ..."  
   
A thought crossed his mind and he was suddenly sure that Potter remained as big an idiot as he'd been as a child.  "Did you go in there earlier?  Alone?"  
   
Potter shrugged.  "Maybe?"  
   
"You idiot.  What if something had happened to you?"  
   
Potter chuckled.  "I didn't know you cared."  
   
"It's not funny."  
   
Potter’s face schooled itself into a more sombre expression.  "Look at me.  I'm fine.  In fact, it sort of makes you feel like your internal magic is somehow stronger."  
   
Draco let that settle over him.  As a boy he'd stumbled across this part of the property and had been frightened by the feeling of _something_ crawling under his skin.  He'd run back to the house and into his grandfather's study.  He'd always found that room comforting.  When Abraxas had asked what was troubling Draco, he'd told him all about that spot.  His grandfather had warned him away in the sternest of tones, the one that wasn't open for debate.  He'd instructed Draco never to tell anyone about it and to stay clear.  Something in the way his face had contorted made Draco heed his warning.  
   
But now ...  
   
"We can't build it there."  
   
Potter's face fell.  "Why not?"  
   
"Even if what you say is true - that the magic means us no harm."  
   
"It's safe," Potter assured him again.  
   
"Nevertheless."  Perhaps he and Potter could explore this another time, but as for this project, there was no way.  "I love my mother dearly, but she's not someone I would trust with this information."  
   
Now Potter looked very confused.  And a little judgemental.  "Why not?"  
   
"Really?  You can't think of a single reason why I shouldn't tell my mother about this?"  When Potter said nothing, he continued.  "My mother loves my father.  To a fault.  Are you starting to see where I'm going with this?"  He could nearly smell the smoke as the wheels in Potter's head spun.  "She will tell him.  Perhaps not now.  Perhaps not even when he's released from Azkaban.  But eventually she will.  And no one - least of all you - wants to see Lucius Malfoy with a way to strengthen his magic.  No one."  
   
Potter's face drained of all colour as, no doubt, he imagined what Lucius might attempt if given the opportunity.  "Right.  I'll say nothing."  
   
Draco let out a long sigh, glad he didn't need to fight Potter on this.  
   
Potter looked back at the spot once more, almost longingly, reluctant to let it go just yet.  Eventually, he clapped Draco on the shoulder.  "So ... let's pick another spot."  
   
Once they'd decided on the area just beyond the existing gardens, Potter suggested heading out for an early dinner and Draco agreed.  
   
***  
   
When they arrived at the restaurant, Draco ordered a brandy to calm his badly shaken nerves.   Potter had a pint.  He kept watching Potter for some sign of ill-effects, but he seemed okay.  For now.  When the waitress took their order, Draco selected a bottle of Shiraz to go with their meal, and was on his third glass before he truly relaxed.  
   
Nearing the end of the meal, and the bottle of wine, Potter broached the topic.  "So why were you so ...  unnerved by the ley line?"  
   
He should have known Potter couldn't let it go for an entire night.  Draco finished the last of his dinner and his wine, motioned to the waitress for another bottle, then wiped his mouth and put his napkin on his plate.  "I ran across it as a boy and asked my grandfather about it; his reaction scared me.  He told me never to go back and never to tell anyone.  And his manner didn't invite further inquiry."  
   
"That's odd."  
   
He sighed.  "I could ask him about it."  At Potter's bewildered look, he added, "There's a portrait in his study.  I'm not sure if he ever imparted the painting with his memory of that place - he may not have, if he wanted no one to know - but if he did, perhaps his portrait could explain why he felt compelled to warn me away."  
   
Potter looked ready to continue the conversation but Draco raised his hand.  "I told you earlier, that place creeped me out as a child.  Today wasn't any better and I'd rather like to stop talking about it, if that's alright."  
   
Potter's lips tightened, as though he were fighting to keep himself from talking.  "Of course."  
   
"In fact, I look forward to washing away that image of the wind swirling around you with another glass or ten of this lovely wine.  Perhaps another brandy or two."  
   
Potter laughed.  "I'm fine."  
   
"You didn't see what I did."  
   
Potter reached across the table and put his hand over Draco's.  "I'm fine."  
   
Draco stared at their hands, wondering if Pansy might have a point.  "Yes, well, don't do it again."  
   
"But I –"  
   
"No more talking about it.  For now, we have wine, and pudding is still to come."  
   
By the time they'd finished the wine and cake, Draco was in no shape to Apparate and Potter insisted on taking him side-along.  When Draco argued, Potter simply shook his head and Apparated them to the manor gates.  
   
***  
   
"You could've splinched me!" Draco said as they landed awkwardly.  
   
"Hardly."  Potter continued to hold Draco's arm as he led the way to the front door.  "I had a total of three glasses of wine and one beer and we'd been there for hours.  I'm fine."  And as Draco occasionally leaned onto the arm steadying him, he figured Potter maybe had a point.  
   
When they walked through the door, Potter mumbled something to the house-elf before escorting Draco into the sitting room and depositing him onto the sofa, plunking himself down next to him.  
   
"Your eyes glowed, you know."  Draco reached up and touched Potter's left brow.    
   
Potter looked amused.  "Did they?"  
   
"Scary shit, that."  
   
Potter took Draco's hand and lowered it away from his face.  "I thought you didn't want to talk about it."  
   
"I don't.  But you've always done stupid stuff like that and you need someone to tell you not to."  
   
Potter bit his lower lip.  "I do?"  
   
Draco wanted to bite Potter's lip.  Instead, he nodded and the room spun a bit.  He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in slowly.  When he opened them again, Potter was sitting closer, his face very close, eyes studying Draco's.  "You okay there?"  
   
"M'fine."  Potter's eyes were really nice up close, not glowing at all.  Draco reached up and removed his glasses.  Running his two thumbs over Potter's brows, he said, "They aren't glowing now."  
   
Potter smiled.  "Is that a good thing?"  
   
Draco grasped Potter's face roughly in his hands and stared into his eyes.  "Promise me you'll never do anything stupid like that again."  
   
"I'm fine."  The man was infuriating.  Always being contrary.  Then he reached up and tucked a stray hair behind Draco's ear and Draco stopped breathing.  He wasn't even sure if what he did next was a conscious decision, but next moment his lips pressed against Potter's.  They were soft and responsive, and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Pansy's cheered inside his head.  Draco teased Potter's lips with his tongue to deepen the kiss and when Potter's tongue wrapped around his own, the room began to spin anew.  
   
Far too soon, Potter drew back, preventing Draco from following him with hands on Draco's shoulders.  "We shouldn't."  
   
His words felt like a bucket of cold water.  Draco pulled back.  "I'm sorry.  I must have misread –"   _Bloody Pansy._  
   
Potter chuckled.  "I'm not sure what Parkinson has to do with this."   _Shit.  He must have said that out loud._  "But you didn't misread anything.  It's just ... well, you've had quite a bit to drink and I wouldn't want you to regret –"  
   
Draco snorted.  "You think this –" He motioned between them "– is the wine?"  
   
"Maybe a bit of the brandy, too."  Draco began to protest but Potter stopped him with a touch of his finger to Draco's lips.  "But even if that's not the reason - and I'll admit that I hope it's not - we shouldn't.  Not now."  
   
Draco lifted his hand up to pull Potter's finger away from his mouth.  Then he licked around the tip of it before drawing it into his mouth, staring at Potter, daring him to pull away.  Potter let out a pained groan and Draco grinned in triumph, dragging his teeth lightly and suggestively over Potter's finger.  
   
"Fucking hell, Malfoy."  Potter pulled his finger out of Draco's mouth and watched as Draco's tongue danced over his own lips.  "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"  Then he grasped Draco's shirt and pulled him forward, their lips colliding none too gently.  Then his tongue was back where it belonged and Draco moaned happily around it.  Draco wrapped his arms around Potter's back and drew him closer, not wanting to give him a chance to pull away again.  If this were the only chance he ever got, he wanted to make it memorable.  
   
After what could have been a minute or ten or a hundred - he was so lost in the feel of Potter he had no concept of time - once again Draco felt Potter pulling away, albeit more reluctantly than before.   He didn't draw completely away, but cradled Draco's face in his palms, peppering his lips with gentle kisses.  "I'm leaving now," he said between kisses.  "Because if I don't go soon, I won't be able to pull myself away."  
   
"Then don't."  
   
Potter groaned once more.  "Hold that thought, yeah?"  He dove in for a deeper kiss once more.  When they broke free again, he said with a shaky voice, "If you still want this tomorrow –"  
   
"I will."  
   
"Good.  Then there's no problem with me leaving now.  Your house-elf will leave some hangover potion in your room for the morning.  I'm going home to bed."  
   
Draco brought their lips together for a long, lingering kiss full of promise.  Then, against every instinct and desire in him, he found himself bending to Potter's will.  "We've waited this long.  What's another day?"  
   
***  
   
Unfortunately, the next day came and went without either of them so much as saying a word about the kiss.  Or the earth magic, for that matter.  Draco wanted to, but every time he opened his mouth to say something, his nerve failed him.  Sure, Potter had seemed keen enough the night before, but that might have just been the rush of the earth magic.  Or the alcohol.  He may not have been drunk like Draco, but he’d had a few.  Also, he had been the one to stop and say they shouldn’t.  Maybe now, in the light of day, he realised that Draco was still _Draco_ and they were better off forgetting the whole thing even happened.  It made Draco want to scream in frustration or, better yet, grab the man and get on with some more kissing, but he rather thought he’d made enough of an idiot of himself the night before.  If Potter wanted to continue what they’d started, he would have to be the one to act.  
   
Instead, they both remained focussed on business.  It was both good and bad.  Good because they got a lot done.  Bad because Draco was more frustrated than ever.  Now that he'd had a taste of Potter, he wanted more.  So much more.  
   
Every now and again, he’d catch Potter looking his way, but once their eyes met, Potter turned back to his work, never saying or doing anything.  What kind of a Gryffindor was he anyway?  As the day progressed, Draco became more convinced that Potter wanted nothing more to do with him - at least not that way.  As depressing as that thought was, and as he began to regret not pushing for more the night before - he would have liked to have had at least one night with Potter - Draco decided that he’d make the best of the situation and not ruin what they had.  After all, it was better than their previous animosity, and Draco didn’t fancy losing what they’d gained.  
   
***  
   
The next two weeks flew by, with Potter and Draco working from sunup to sundown, still never broaching the topic of their aborted encounter.  In fleeting moments here and there, Draco forgot his promise to himself and decided to talk to Potter, whatever the consequences.  But it seemed unusually difficult to get a word alone with the man, what with the queue of workmen hovering nearby.  Apparently, no one could make a decision without first consulting Potter.  
   
A few times Draco had managed to get him on his own, but before he could work up the nerve to bring up the kiss, more people descended.  He was itching to drag Potter off somewhere and snog him senseless, but then he kept hearing Potter say, “We shouldn’t,” and he thought perhaps Potter had a point.  
   
Part of the problem - the need for so many hands on site - was the scope of the project.  Draco had envisioned a gazebo-like structure, but Potter had grander ideas.  Seriously grand ideas.  He ended up designing and constructing what for many people would be a home in and of itself.    
   
A scaled down version of a cloistered courtyard, the design called for five joined, covered walkways surrounding a garden or open square - whatever Draco decided upon at a later date - with what would have been the sixth cloister left open and facing the main gardens - specifically the section where Narcissa's favourite flowers and plants grew.  
   
Several narrow rooms extended from each of the stretches of cloistered walkways.  A massive greenhouse ran the length of the main walkway along the back.  On either side of that in small, angled rooms were the washroom and kitchenette.  Completing the structure was a tool shed - complete with work benches for potting - to the right, and what Potter envisioned as a broom/tool shed to the left, facing the clearing where Draco often flew and sometimes played Quidditch.  Potter had suggested tearing down the existing broom shed and integrating it into the design, though Draco wasn't completely sold on the idea of benefitting from a gift he was giving his mother.  For the time being, they would leave the existing shed where it was and present the room as one for growth.  
   
As Potter worked with his team to erect the structure, Draco could get to work on the interior design.  At Potter's suggestion, they'd decided to use local bath stone to be true to the surroundings and to provide them with some malleability insofar as shaping and designing the structure.  Now that they'd made all the major decisions, Draco - admittedly reluctantly - had handed over all decision-making on the building to Potter.  And now that the structure was in place, the man had the audacity to ban him from the vicinity until he was done with the details!  He'd erected a cloaking spell days earlier so that every time Draco approached it, all he saw was a large concrete wall that had KEEP OUT written in large, black letters.  
   
He'd tried threatening, ranting, pouting and sulking, to no avail, so today he opted to work from his office instead.  
   
***  
   
Two hours after he'd arrived, Pansy sauntered into his office and shut the door.  "So how are you and Potter getting on?"  
   
"Quite well, actually."  
   
"So ..."  
   
"So, nothing.  Absolutely nothing."  
   
She settled on the visitor's chair in his office.  "Sounds to me like you're not best pleased by that."  
   
He'd been so busy of late, he hadn't set foot in the office more than twice over the past two weeks, and each time Pansy had been meeting with prospective clients.  He hadn't seen her since the kiss.  Not sure why, he found himself telling her all about it.  
   
"What?  And you didn't tell me straight away?"  She positively bounced in her seat.  "But that's wonderful!"  
   
"I was drunk.  It was stupid."  
   
"Nonsense.  He was into it too, right?  I mean he only pulled back because he's a stupid, idiot Gryffindor with ridiculous ideas about right and wrong and ... virtue."  
   
Draco snorted at the notion of being considered virtuous.  "He hasn't said anything since.  Not a word.  Hasn't even given me a look that might suggest more."  
   
"And neither have you, right?"  
   
He played with a fabric sample on his desk.  "I suppose not."  
   
Pansy snapped her fingers in front of his face, forcing him to look at her.  "Has it occurred to you that he might think you've forgotten about it?  That you only kissed him because you were drunk?"  
   
"I told him that wasn't the only reason."  
   
"Yes.  When you were drunk."  She sat back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling.  "Salazar save me from idiot men."  
   
"Hey!"  
   
"Go home, kiss him and drag him to your bed.  Now."  
   
A certain part of his anatomy approved of that idea.  He ignored it.  "He's working."  
   
She pursed her lips.  "He's working for you.  Tell him to take some time off.  Then take him to bed."  She stood up, came around the desk and pulled Draco to his feet.  
   
Rather than fight her, he allowed himself to be manhandled and he Apparated home.  
   
***  
   
"Master Draco," his house-elf greeted him at the front door.  "Master Harry is asking Mimsy to tell you that he is almost done and will be coming to get you soon."  
   
"Thank you, Mimsy.  Would you please bring me tea in my office until Master Harry graces me with his presence?"  
   
She bowed, missing his sarcasm entirely.  "As Master wishes."  
   
Draco had brought some of his papers with him, so he sat down to review the latest numbers for the business while he waited.  It still irked him that he was effectively banished from his own gardens.  
   
A quarter of an hour later, a knock came at the door and he looked up.  
   
"You wear glasses?" Potter asked.  He was grinning _that grin_ again.  The one that made Draco want to cross the room and pull Potter’s mouth to his own.  "They suit you."  
   
Draco removed them.  He didn't often allow people to see him wearing them, though Potter wasn't wrong.  He'd spent a painstaking length of time getting just the right frames to complement his features.  He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he adjusted his vision once more.  "Only when reading many numbers."  
   
Potter shuddered.  "Never a fun task."  Draco raised a brow.  He actually quite liked numbers.  He found them soothing, solid, constant.  "So, are you ready to see the finished product?"  
   
Draco found himself smiling.  "It's done?"  
   
Potter nodded.  "It is.  It just awaits your approval and your designing expertise."  
   
Draco got up from his desk and stopped himself from running out the door.  "Let's see it then."  
   
As they approached, the wretched concrete slab glared at him.  "Seriously?"  
   
Potter laughed.  “I wanted you to see it revealed all at once rather than bit by bit as you approached."  
   
"Are you quite finished, now?"  
   
Potter waved a hand and the concrete visage melted away to reveal ...  "It's –"  Draco had no words as he tried to take it all in.  He'd seen the structure before Potter put up that stupid spell.  But, as beautiful and imposing as it had been, it could have been a completely different building.  The posts - plain and square in the original structure - were carved out to appear like tree trunks, bursting at the tops into branches with carved bath stone leaves.  The walkways were no longer covered by straight lines, but by a canopy of trees.  It looked _alive_.  "It's stunning!"  
   
"Really?  You think so?"  
   
Draco whirled round.  "Are you kidding?" he asked incredulously.  "I love it.  My mother will love it.  I can't imagine it being more perfect.  You are an absolute genius!"  
   
Potter laughed.  "I'll be replaying this memory in my Pensieve for years.  Draco Malfoy calling me a genius."  
   
Draco narrowed his eyes while steadfastly trying to stop his mouth from twitching.  "I shall deny it, Pensieve or no Pensieve."  He lifted his chin defiantly and turned back to take in more details.  
   
"I can't take all the credit," Potter said.  "I have to admit to being inspired by Antoni Gaudi.  He was a Spanish architect that loved to weave nature into his buildings.  I've been waiting for just the opportunity to do this for years."  
   
"Now I know why you hid this.  I don't think I would have wanted to see it as it was being created.  This has so much more impact all at once."  Still, he’d have enjoyed watching Potter create it.  
   
Potter leaned in, so close that Draco could smell his shampoo.  "So I'm forgiven?"  
   
On impulse, Draco turned and kissed Potter soundly on the mouth.  "Definitely forgiven."  Then he turned back, heart racing as he realised what he'd just done.  He wanted to bask in the moment, and couldn't bare to see Potter pull away.  But Potter didn't pull away.  In fact, he scooted up behind Draco, resting one hand on Draco's shoulder and reaching around him to point out details, all the while his breath warm and comforting and teasing on Draco's neck and the warmth of his body a pillar of strength behind Draco.  
   
"And did you see that, above the keystone?"  
   
Draco looked up in the direction Potter pointed.  Was that –?  He moved closer - reluctant to step away from Potter but eager to to get a good look - to see the details that were hard to decipher when all were of the same material.  "The Black family crest?"  
   
Potter had followed him and now stood at his side.  "I thought it was a nice touch.  You have all the Malfoy heritage and reference you could ever want or need in the main house.  This is your mother's place.  She should be able to celebrate her own family, don't you think?"  
   
Draco grasped Potter's hand as he tried to reign in his emotions.  This was more than he'd even dared to imagine.  He could have decorated the place with all sorts of references to the Black family, but this ... this was a dedication of the building itself.  He squeezed Potter's hand.  "It's perfect."  
   
Potter pulled on their joined hands so that Draco was facing him.  His face was positively lit up with energy.  "There's more.  I have some things back at mine - I live at Grimmauld Place, Sirius' old house - things that you might want to pick through.  I thought you might like to incorporate some of the Black heirlooms, at least see what's left that you might be able to use."  His face fell a bit.  "A lot got pilfered by Mundungus Fletcher when it was being used as Order Headquarters, but there's some stuff left.  Kreacher managed to retrieve a few things."  
   
Draco nodded.  "It's perfect."  
   
Potter laughed.  "You said that already."  
   
"Thank you."  
   
Potter smiled.  "My pleasure."  
   
Draco's breath hitched as he read the sincerity in Potter's expression.  Pansy was right: there was more there, and he'd been an idiot - they both had been - not to have seen it before.  He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and kissed Potter.  It was a slow build, something that spoke of promises and things he didn't want to spend too much time thinking about right now.  As Potter's arms enveloped him and he sank into the feeling of this man in his arms, he was rather glad that his mother wouldn't be home for another week.  
   
Potter drew back and smiled.  "I thought ... I'd hoped ..."  
   
"Shut up and kiss me, Potter."  
   
Potter hesitated, turning back to his mother's gift.  "But you haven't seen everything."  
   
Draco looked back at the building.  "I know, but I've only been waiting a few weeks to see that.”  He smiled and brushed his shoulder against Potter’s.  “I've been waiting years for this."  
   
Potter wrapped his arm around Draco’s shoulders and pulled him closer.  “Me too,” he said with a smile.  Then his lips were on Draco’s and all the doubts and fears fell from Draco’s mind as he poured himself into the kiss.  
   
At length, Draco drew back.  He was pleased to see Potter looked as dazed as he felt.  “Let’s go upstairs.”    
   
As they made their way inside, Potter stopped by the fireplace.  "One more thing I forgot to mention."    
   
Draco huffed his annoyance.  "Can it not wait?"    
   
Potter chuckled and kissed him softly.  "The manor’s Floo is connected again."  
   
"It ... what?"  
   
"I know a guy."  Draco rolled his eyes.  Of course he did.  Who wouldn't be willing to do Harry Potter a favour?  "He arranged it at the Ministry's end a couple of days ago and popped by here this morning while you were out to make sure it worked from here.  You need only open it and it’ll work."  
   
Draco allowed his eyes to rove over Potter's body.  "You know, you've become more useful than I ever would have imagined."  
   
Potter's serious face turned amused.  "Have I now?"  
   
Draco smiled widely.  "Indeed you have."  He ran his fingers through Potter's hair and drew him in for another deep kiss.  "Mmm.  I may have to find more for you to do so I can keep you around."  
   
Potter smiled.  "It might take a _very_ long time to go through all the things at Grimmauld Place."  
   
Draco let his hand run along the length of Potter's side before grasping his hand.  As he led the way to his bedroom, he winked and said, "I'm counting on it."  
   
~ FIN ~ 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [2017's H/D Glompfest](http://serpentinelion.livejournal.com/tag/%5B2017%5D%20glompfest) at [serpentinelion on LJ](serpentinelion.livejournal.com).
> 
> Glompfest is an annual fest that features authors and artists gifting 'lurkers' as thanks for their support.


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